


tides

by hawkes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkes/pseuds/hawkes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She came back to Skyhold smelling of the sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tides

**Author's Note:**

> After finding out that Ostwick is near the sea today, I was suddenly filled with so many headcanons and thoughts about Trevelyan, especially a mage!Trevelyan potentially growing up with limited childhood memories of the ocean, which would remain forever barred to her during her life in the Circle. Then this happened.

She came back to Skyhold smelling of the sea. 

Before her departure, Cullen could tell that she was terrified about returning to Ostwick and what she might find there. She'd been distracted at their daily meetings in the war room, restless and unfocused since the moment Leliana had informed her that the journey was necessary. There were still so many things they didn't know about the destruction that had occurred there. 

("Besides," Leliana had added, "perhaps there's something there that would tell us more about how you acquired your...abilities." Cullen hadn't missed the brief flick of her eyes to her gloved left hand and the slight sadness that bloomed across her face as she gazed at it.) 

The fear in her eyes had been laid bare, and for the briefest of moments, he'd wished desperately to be able to hold her close. 

Now, watching her walk towards the staircase where he currently stood, he hadn't expected her to look like this upon her return--what the blasphemous part of his mind deemed a picture of Andraste herself. Long tresses of deep auburn softly curled and thick with salt spray brushed quietly against the flush of her cheeks. Her skin, rich and glistening; her lips, slightly chapped from exposure to the sun but tinted the most beautiful shade of deep pink. 

He could tell she was surprised to see him there. (He'd never admit that he'd come running as soon as he'd heard the first ring of the bell announcing her arrival.) 

"Ser Cullen," she greeted him, voice lilting and sweet. She smiled at him and he could feel his heart pounding against his insides. 

"Inquisitor. I am glad to see you are well." 

 

It was late evening and the sun had just begun to set, shading the sky in delicious shades of pastel pinks and oranges. A longing to be away from the general chaos that was the Keep around suppertime and fueled by a desire for some semblance of peace, Arianne had made her way to Skyhold's gardens. She was seated on a stone bench underneath a trellis decorated with delicate blossoms and fragile vines, a book on Thedas' various coasts and seas open in her lap. 

She'd just gotten to the chapter about Rivain when she heard a soft laugh emanate from the person standing before her. 

"I shudder to think what might've happened here had one of our enemies found you in such a vulnerable state." 

Her lips quirked as she repressed a smile. "I am offended, Ser, that you seem to have so little faith in my talents. You are indeed fortunate that I can recognize you from your voice alone, lest you would've found yourself frozen to the ground on which you stand." She looked up at him at this, drawn to the mirth in his eyes as he too, attempted to refrain from further laughter. 

"If I may ask, what has captured your attention so?" 

She gestured for him to take a seat next to her as she began to explain. "A book about the sea. Despite living in Ostwick for the entirety of my life, I have very faint memories of the ocean. As you're probably well aware, I...couldn't quite see it from the Tower." Her voice was tight as she said this and she would not meet his eyes. 

He pressed on in the hopes of steering the conversation away from subjects that would be difficult for them. "What do you treasure most about these memories, if I may ask?" 

She smiled, and he knew he'd asked the right question. "Oh, small things. Sights and sounds. The image of light splayed across the water. The texture of the sand beneath my bare feet. The feel of my hand pressed into my mother's as we walked along the shore. Idyllic childhood visions, I suppose." 

"It sounds lovely." 

"Yes, I believe it was." Silence blanketed them for a few brief moments before she laughed. He turned his head toward her in response, waiting for an explanation. 

"I just remembered that I used to pretend that whenever I held shells up to my ear that the sounds I heard were the whispers of mermaids from the depths." More laughter, then: "I remember being utterly crushed when I found out it was just the wind. I found myself constantly wondering from then on if everything else was a lie too." 

(He laughed along with her, and because she believed it to be such a beautiful moment of companionship between them, she didn't have the heart to let the sudden wash of sadness that had overcome her to peek through. She didn't dare tell him that, years later, she'd hear the whispers of demons in the night and pretend they were the mermaids of her childhood to make herself less frightened.)

"I'd wager, then, that you had a chance to return to the sea once more during your most recent voyage?" 

"Yes--Sera suggested it, actually. Said she thought it'd be good for us since the last few months have been especially difficult for all of us." 

His eyes softened as he looked at her and that strange urge to hold her surfaced once again. "They have been quite hard, yes. For some more than others." He caught her gaze deliberately, and her cheeks slightly reddened as she quickly looked away.

"Yes, well, I do not wish to place more importance on myself than others." The confidence in her voice was one Cullen was no stranger to, yet between them, it sounded less authoritative and instead more reassuring. "We are all doing our part, and as such, deserve equal recognition. I am not the only one here who is haunted by their past, it seems." It was Cullen's turn to look away. 

A few moments of quiet passed between them before she spoke again. "Now, as wonderful as this evening with you has been, Ser, I must unfortunately retire to my chambers for the rest of the night. Reports concerning the situation in Ostwick are due to Josephine tomorrow morning and I hope to complete them before it gets any later." She stood, but before she departed, she fished around in the pocket of her trousers before retrieving a small object and shyly asking him to give her his hand. 

He did so (with no hesitation, much to his surprise) and felt the gentle press of her fingers into his palm. She lifted her hand away, and there, in the center of his rough, calloused hand worn by years of battle, lay a delicate, translucent pink seashell. 

"Perhaps, one day, we could travel to the sea together," she said. The smile on her face was tentative. Hopeful, like her eyes as she looked upon his face. He felt the air in his lungs leave him in a sudden rush. 

"Perhaps we shall," he replied.


End file.
